“Daddy?” Her voice was a croaky whisper.
“Hey, Jellybean.” He smiled softly as he stroked the line of her nose the way he used to when she was a child, causing her heart to clench painfully and her eyes to blur with tears.
She shook her head and pulled away from his touch as if it burned. “Why? Tell me why?”
He pulled back and the glimpse of her father was gone. A much colder version stood in his place.
“Why what?” His head tilted slightly. “Why did your mother have to die? Or why did all those men have to die?”
Her mouth fell open at the callous disregard with which he spoke of them all. “Did you feel anything when you killed them?” she whispered.
His gaze flickered. “You were too young to understand at the time, but you will understand soon enough.”
“Understand what? That you only kept me alive because you needed my blood to unlock the devil’s trap?”
That got a reaction from him, his eyes flared, and he took a step back.
“Charles”—Davis turned from the window—“we’ve got company.”
He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You will understand, and I’m sorry but there is no other way,” he whispered. “Some things you have to see for yourself.”
She pulled back and stared into his eyes.
“Charles,” Davis called again more urgently.
Suddenly Olivia felt a sharp scratch at her neck, and once again, everything went dark.
“You didn’t have to do that.” Charles turned to look at Davis as he placed the syringe down on the table.
“They are tracking Walcott, and we can’t have her telling them we were here. By the time she wakes up, we’ll be long gone.”
Charles looked back down at Olivia.
“Charles.” Davis grabbed his arm. “We’ve come too far to stop now. We’re so close, and we have to see this through.”
Charles nodded as he turned to pick Walcott’s gun up off the floor. Flipping open the barrel, he dropped the bullets into his palm along with the round in the chamber and shoved them into his pocket before dropping the gun to the floor.
“Ready?” Davis asked.
Charles nodded as Davis placed a hand on his shoulder, and once again, Charles felt that curious sensation of weightlessness. With one final look at each other, they walked straight through the back wall of the cabin as if it was as insubstantial as mist and disappeared into the woods.
Thomas Walcott opened his eyes groggily and pushed himself to his knees, shaking his head. The sound of sirens blared close by. He hauled himself to his feet and grabbed the gun he’d dropped. He saw Olivia still strapped to the chair, unconscious, but as he spun around, he realized he was alone. Charles was gone, he’d slipped through his fingers again. He roared in anger, then aiming at Olivia, he pulled the trigger several times.
Nothing happened. Throwing the gun in fury, he heard it smash through a pane of glass. The sound of the sirens was getting louder and knowing he didn’t have time to do anything about the unconscious woman, he yanked open the door and disappeared into the woods.
27
Theo looked down at Olivia lying so still and surrounded by beeping monitors. He smoothed her hair back from her bruised face, noting the welt at her forehead, her swollen cheek, and her split lip. The skin of her jaw was already turning a dark shade of purple and looked suspiciously like fingerprints.
His hand clenched involuntarily with helpless rage. Her throat was covered with a white sterile dressing, although patches of blood had already begun to seep through, and he could see bruising spreading out from underneath the surgical tape holding the dressing in place. He took her hand gently, unable to ignore the bruising banding her wrists.
“Has Theo moved yet?” Erica whispered as she walked into the hospital room holding a bouquet of flowers.
“No,” Jake replied as he stood watching them with folded arms and an inscrutable expression.
“The mayor sent these.” She set them down on a nearby table. “She said she’d be by to visit with Olivia once she’s awake.”
He stared at her silently.
